Chapter Three
“S o,” Liam said with a smile. “How’s it been going?”
The exhibition had been going on for a while, and it had been…fun. “Good,” Samuel said. “Photographs have been some of his best, and it’s been nice, you know, being around creative people.”
“Glad you enjoyed seeing the photographs,” Liam said and laughed, and there was a slight touch of reprimand in his mentor’s voice that Samuel didn’t get. “But I meant the people.”
Which made sense. “Well,” he began, trying to explain himself, “I…”
Liam shook his head, stopping any explanation he could possibly make. “Didn’t bring you here just for you to stare at photographs, you know.”
He didn’t know—that was news to him. “What?”
His mentor clapped his shoulder. “I know,” Liam said as he looked into the crowd for someone, “pretty much everybody here.”
It wasn’t a surprise; Liam had always been well connected. Which meant Samuel should take advantage of the position he’d been put in. “Anybody in particular that I should say hello to?”
Liam nodded, pointing into the crowd. “Oliver Goldsmith.”
Oliver was an artist he admired. “The painter Oliver Goldsmith?”
“He and I went to school together,” Liam replied. “He’s a good contact for you as you keep your feet in two different areas of lettering.”
Right. Oliver, aside from being a painter, was also a trained colorist—another very specialized area of comic art. “Okay.” He paused. “Where is he?”
Liam pointed to the other side of the room, to one of the only other people wearing a collared shirt. “Him.”
Samuel nodded. “Okay.”
Liam, clearly not convinced that Samuel would listen, and right about it, laughed. “Let’s go over there.”
As he followed his mentor into the small group of people, Samuel knew that everything was about to change.
*
“So,” Naomi said as they got out of the taxi a block away from the gallery. “Now tell me about what has everybody buzzing.”
Leah blinked. “Everybody?”
“Party planners, brides. The expo.”
Leah sighed as she started to walk down the street, regretting her decision to wear heels. Apparently her cousin’s perception of who ‘everybody’ was changed with the minute. “What exactly are you talking about? I told you the story.”
“I know the context. But what’s the deal with him being your boyfriend now? Don’t you not like him? Are we not supposed to like him?”
Leah desperately tried to stop herself from killing her cousin. “A one-time public stunt to fix the fact the man doesn’t understand crowd control. Nothing more.”
“Ooooh.” Naomi shook her head as they stopped in front of the gallery. “Too hasty methinks.”
“Sometimes words don’t require much thought.” Leah replied as she followed her cousin into the air-conditioned building.
“Says you who overthink everything,” Naomi snorted. Not that her cousin had any right to judge. “That will be the day—when you say something you haven’t rehearsed.”
“Not me,” Leah said as they headed to the podium holding the guest list.
“Naomi Nachman,” her cousin said.
“Leah Nachman,” Leah said following protocol. “My name may or may not be on the list.”
“Enjoy,” the security guard said as he waved them through.
And as she walked into the exhibit, once again, Leah felt something strange at the pit of her stomach. Once again she hoped the feeling didn’t signify yet another entanglement with someone best left in the past.
*
Sometimes, Samuel found himself in awe of his life and his surroundings. Two words to his mentor and there he was in deep conversation with Oliver Goldsmith, who had, by some strange twist of fate, possessed a mezuzah he’d made.
“Your stuff is the rage,” Liam had said.
Which was news to him. He enjoyed himself, and worked as hard as he could. “I guess it shows when I love what I do?”
“And the posters for the Goldstone series,” Oliver said. “The lettering was exquisite.”
That was it. He was done. May his memory be a blessing. Then and there.
But he had to be cool and casual. “Means a lot coming from you.”
Oliver smiled. “You’re one of us,” he said. “An artist on the rise. L’chaim.”
Samuel, still stunned, lifted the glass of club soda Liam had snagged from a passing waiter, and clinked glasses with Liam and Oliver.
As he started to try and participate in the conversation, his brain gradually adjusting to what Oliver had said, he looked up and met Leah Nachman’s eyes. This, he thought was going to be interesting.
Bashert. Fated.
*
The exhibit was filled with people of all sorts and framed photographs using different variants of light and scene. They were stunning.
“These are amazing,” Naomi said.
They were. But seeing her jaded cousin amazed by something surprised Leah. “I don’t have words,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t usually love photography.”
“Photography is part of my makeup case set of skills,” Naomi said, as if she’d given this explanation before. “It’s not my job to take photographs, but I can recognize a good photographer when I see one. However…”
“Yes?”
Leah encouraged the extra commentary because she thought it was about the photography, but the look in Naomi’s eyes should have convinced her otherwise. Mischief. Pure mischief.
“You sure the thing with the hot sofer was crowd control only?”
Upset. Ire.
Of course. “Oh my God,” she said, trying not to yell. “You’re as bad as Judith, not to mention it’s out of nowhere.”
“It’s not out of nowhere,” Naomi quipped back, as if her cousin was trying to find some justification. “We’re here, after all, for Judith’s wedding.”
“Do you realize the headache Judith’s wedding has been already?” The words flew out of her mouth and none of it was Naomi’s fault, but her cousin got the brunt of it. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Naomi said, “but…um…”
“What?”
Leah followed her cousin’s outstretched finger, only to realize the entire room was staring at her.
And of course the nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach had been right on target, as her gaze settled on Samuel Levine.
Good thing he was nice to look at, and once again his eyes pulled her in like tractor beams.
But this time?
This time she had a plan. Instead of letting herself fall into the black hole, she was going to be proactive. “I didn’t realize my boyfriend would be here.”
And without looking back at her cousin, she crossed the room, took Samuel by the arm, led him to the first door she saw and dragged him in behind her.
*
Normally, Samuel would have been thrilled to be dragged into a private room by Leah Nachman, but this. This was… “What?”
“Turnabout is fair play,” she said, still gorgeous, still unapproachable.
“I don’t… I mean…”
“Do you realize what my life has been like in the time since you announced to the wedding expo that I was your girlfriend?”
He shook his head; he’d been exhausted after setup and then ran here, so he hadn’t heard anything about anything. “I don’t. Can you enlighten me?”
He tried to be as earnest as possible; it was entirely possible she wouldn’t believe him, but after a beat she nodded.
“Fine. My entire family wants to know what’s up with us, my sister is giddy and apparently the wedding planning industry wants to know the identity of the hot sofer’s girlfriend.”
He could read the agitation in her movements, and it didn’t bode well for anything. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m a sports agent,” she continued, lost in her own words. “I’m a professional. This…whatever it is can’t continue.”
“Well,” he said, trying not to sound like he was adding to her difficulties or making this situation sound like it would be worse for him. “You just informed a bunch of New York’s art circle, as well as my mentor, who works at BP comics, that I’m your boyfriend.”
“And this isn’t a problem for you?”
His first instinct was to say no, that maybe this whole thing was bashert, confirming they were tied together by threads, strings, or whatever plans drew people together. Why else would they run into each other now?
But he had to give her an answer. The silence between them had extended for too long. “It’s a problem because it’s caused you trouble.”
“Diplomatic as always,” she said.
What alternative did he have? “What do you want from me?”
“To fix this mess,” she said. “I have an important meeting with the agency head on Tuesday and I don’t need any more distractions.”
Subtext—because you caused a big one already. “So what do you suggest I do about it?”
He watched her pace, watched the agent, the professional come to life underneath her skin. PR. Damage control. “I don’t live that far from here. Take me home, or at least to the subway. Let’s say our goodbyes.”
He nodded, because it seemed like this was going to be an interesting ride.